She shook her head. “No, but you’re not even close, John. It’s twenty-three trillion, or it was. Probably more now because I asked that Frankenstein AI you mentioned to start actively investing.” She shot the agent a grin and said, “Doctor Howard just didn’t seem to care.”
This time White didn’t even try to hide his reaction. He grabbed his fork and she noted how his knuckle grew white. “Twenty-three trillion dollars, Omandi. That is enough to completely disrupt the entire world’s economy. You do realize that four different governmental powers have tried to freeze those assets without success?”
Charlotte leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “I had not realized that, actually, but also haven’t had much time to worry about the money. As long as I have sufficient resources to accomplish my task, that’s all I really care about.”
“The funds keep moving,” he said. “Every time any governmental agency places a freeze, moments before they can lock down the funds, it transfers. How are you doing it?”
Oh, you clever little daemon, thought Omandi, have you possessed the banking system? Naughty…naughty. Charlotte dismissed her internal monologue and said “No idea what you are talking about, John, but if this is about the U.S. Government needing a loan, you could have just asked. I’m happy to help. Would you like me to buy some T-bills or something?”
White slammed his hand on the table, causing the plates and silverware to jump. Here we go, thought Charlotte as he glared at her. “It is not just about the money. I want to know what kind of stealth technology you are using. I want to know how a privately owned jet can lose both wings and a tail, then accelerate to Mach seven, all in the span of two minutes. I want to know everything about James Branson, Richard Carpenter, Misha Sokolov, and Linnea Sorenson.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean, John,” said Charlotte innocently. “They are just my friends and colleagues who—”
“They are products of an advanced multi-generational eugenics program. I want to know exactly what was done to them and to you.”
“Oh, well since you asked so nicely, James robs other people, Richard heals other people, Misha hurts other people, and Linnea talks to other people.”
Agent White set down his napkin and leaned toward Charlotte. “What about you, Omandi? What’s your super-power and how did you get it?”
She lowered her voice conspiratorially, matched White’s forward leaning posture, and whispered, “I was bitten by a spider and now I can detect assholes, especially ones with mommy-issues.” She leaned back, then said more loudly, “and John, I have to tell you, my asshole spider-sense has been buzzing like mad ever since you walked in the room.”
Charlotte stared into the polished metal square that served as her cell’s only mirror. She touched the purpling bruise that ran from her right eye, down to her swollen lip. Omandi spat into the sink, and sighed, as the blood mixed with running water, then gurgled down a sluggish drainpipe. She winked at herself and said, “For someone who is supposed to epitomize human leadership, you sure did manage to piss that agent off. Then again, that was your intent wasn’t it?” Charlotte let out a low chuckle then walked three steps to the low cot that was secured to one wall. She lay down, laced her fingers behind her head and stared at the ceiling.
Omandi had accurately assessed John White’s tendency toward physical confrontation, but not what would happen after. He had lashed out at her last comment and hit her full in the face. His military academy ring caught her lip and tore into the soft flesh enough for blood to fill her mouth. Seconds later, several people clamored into the room, pulled White out and bustled Charlotte off to this new cell.
So much for being moved to a less secure infirmary area, she thought. Funny, that always seemed to work in the movies. Still, there were several advantages to her new accommodations. First, she could shower, pee, and get a drink of water all without walking more than four feet. Very efficient. Second, there was absolutely no place for her captors to hide any surveillance devices. One glowing blue sphere rested above the metal door to her cell. Everything else was solid gray cinder block or cement, she wasn’t sure which. Omandi sat up and pointed at the sphere.
“You’re zero-for-two, but I’m a good sport so will give you one more shot. This time, please bring your A-game.” Charlotte stared at the surveillance module for another few seconds, then slid under the thin sheets and rolled onto her side.
She felt herself starting to drift off when a voice cut through the silence of her cell. “Would you care for some tea and conversation, Ms. Omandi?”
Charlotte rolled over and stared toward the door. She sighed. “That depends on the tea and the person with whom I’ll be conversing,” she said while stifling a yawn. What accent is that, she thought, definitely American, but is it New England or more mid Atlantic? Omandi gave a soft snort of laughter. If only I had the world’s greatest linguist on my team. Oh wait, I do. Too bad I’m in a black ops cell.
The voice continued, oblivious to Charlotte’s internal banter. “I believe your personal favorite is African Autumn, is it not?”
Omandi gave a vaguely affirmative grunt, then said, “There is another part to my conditional acceptance of such a late night visit. Who are you? A girl can’t just invite any strange man into her cell. People would talk.”
She heard the stifled laughter, but the voice said, “Quite true and I would certainly not want to sully your pristine reputation. So many people and governments find you of interest that I thought it only fitting we meet without further delay. As for who I am, my name is Douglas Ramsey. I serve as the United States Secretary for Homeland Security.”
Well, now we are getting somewhere, thought Charlotte.
She leaned forward and sat crosslegged on her cot as Ramsey continued. “So, have I met your two conditions, Ms. Omandi?”
“Well, I do love that tea, but when were you thinking of having this nice little chat?”
As if in response, the door buzzed, then swung inward. A tall man in his late fifties stepped through holding a small tray. He looked around the room and frowned.
“Sorry,” said Charlotte, “My new apartment isn’t much for entertaining. The little desk over there is bolted to the wall. I know because I tried to move it.”
Ramsey nodded and set down the tray. “Honey and lemon if my information is correct?”
Charlotte nodded. “You seem very well briefed, Mr. Ramsey.”
He spared her a quick smile and said, “It’s Doctor Ramsey actually, but I’d be pleased if you would just call me Douglas.”
He walked over and handed Omandi a ceramic teacup. She immediately raised it to her nose and inhaled deeply. “That is definitely the stuff. Where did you get it?”
He pulled the lone metal chair over from its position by the desk and moved it near Omandi. “To be honest, Charlotte, I can’t really take credit for the tea. One of my staff acquired it. Do you mind if I call you Charlotte?”
She considered a moment then said, “I’m a big fan of quid pro quo, so how about I say yes to your request to call me Charlotte, and you tell me where your staff found my favorite tea.”
He smiled. “I accept. They found it at a rather obscure shop. It’s named after a river. Perhaps you’ve heard of it…Amazon.”
Ramsey’s answer managed to take Charlotte off guard and she squinted at him. “Are you serious? I spend weeks looking for that every time I run out and you are telling me it’s on Amazon?”
He nodded and took a sip of his own. “Amazon Prime, actually.”
“Son of a bitch,” growled Omandi, “I’m an idiot! The tea’s so obscure that I never thought to even check there.” She felt Ramsey’s steely gaze upon her, drew her lips to a line, and asked “What?”
The Secretary sighed. “I have to apologize for Mr. White’s behavior and,” he gestured to the room, “for your accommodations. Given your injuries, the staff were going to move you to the infirmary, but I thought you’d be more comfortable in a private setting
.” He stared at her. “Are you…more comfortable, that is?”
He sussed out my desire to be taken to the infirmary. This one isn’t stupid, thought Charlotte, but said, “Yes, I really hate communal living. This is fine for now, but if I’m being truthful, I may have purposefully antagonized poor agent White…just a bit.”
Ramsey laughed. “That is practically in the job description for any detainee. White should demonstrate better restraint. He’s no longer at this facility, but you don’t really care about that, do you, Charlotte? You expertly pushed his buttons in order to cause just the reaction you got. Well, good for you. It worked, and here I am. So, I have a pot full of your favorite tea, plenty of honey, and a desire for dialogue. Shall we begin?”
Omandi gave a subtle shrug then took another sip of her tea. “Sure,” she said, “what would you like to know?”
“I’d like to know if there is an extraterrestrial civilization that represents a global threat to humanity.”
“Yes,” said Charlotte and watched as Ramsey pursed his lips. You weren’t expecting such a direct answer, were you? she thought.
The Secretary sighed. “Well, that is disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. Will you tell me when and how this so-called extinction event might occur?”
Charlotte flashed a warm smile, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, Douglas. I thought I made the rules of this game abundantly clear. In fact, your question reminds me of a movie I watched as a teenager. It was called Silence of the Lambs. Have you ever seen it?” Ramsey nodded and Charlotte saw how his entire body tensed as she said, “Quid pro quo, Doctor Lector. I answered one of your questions, now you get to answer one of mine.”
Ramsey shook his head. “I’m not sure you fully understand how these things work.”
“Oh, I believe I do,” replied Charlotte. “I mean, you are welcome to find another brute to punch me in the face, but I assure you it won’t do much good. It turns out I have an exceptionally high tolerance for pain, some might even call it preternatural. Anyway, I don’t think you’ll get much out of me that way, however, you are free to try.” But please don’t, thought Charlotte, then added to herself, because I actually have a very average tolerance for pain.
After several seconds, Douglas Ramsey nodded. “I think I’d rather go with your previous suggestion. It seems like a fair exchange, Charlotte. Please, what is your first question?”
“Where am I, exactly?”
“Well,” began Ramsey, “I’m not sure I could say, exactly, but, in general terms, you are being held within an unregistered CIA facility. It’s located in one of Kansas’ decommissioned nuclear launch silos. Now, my turn. Do you know when this threat may be launched against us?”
“Yes,” replied Charlotte with a smile.
“Well,” said Ramsey with the faintest hint of frustration creeping into his voice.
“Quid pro quo, Dr. Lector,” chuckled Omandi, “You asked if I knew the timing, and I answered that question. When is an entirely new question.” She saw his face darken slightly and shot him an ingratiating smile, “But, since this is your first time playing this particular game with me, I’ll demonstrate some fine sportsmanship. We have until July 16th.” Charlotte almost laughed at the secretary’s reaction. She managed to keep her own neutral, but thought, so, this is all new to him and, as an added bonus, I think I successfully scared the shit out of him. Before Ramsey could more fully react, Omandi pointed at him. “Remember, now I get two questions. However, before I ask them, would you be a dear and refresh my tea?”
Chapter 27
From Earth to Luna
James’ fingers blurred over a myriad of controls then he glanced to his right and frowned. “Coleman, do you really need to hover over me like that?”
The AI furrowed his brow. “I do not believe I am hovering, Lieutenant. In point of fact, I am standing five hundred forty-five centimeters to the right of you.”
“That’s hovering, you silicon shite.” Coleman stared at the pilot with his preternaturally glowing blue eyes, but said nothing. Branson spun his chair, stared at him for several beats, then said, “Why are your eyes doing that?”
“Doing what, Lieutenant?”
“That,” gestured Branson, “that glowing thing. No offense, but your normal interactions put me a touch off my game. However those freakishly glowing eyes of yours—”
James’ words hung in the air for a second or two when Coleman suddenly smiled at the pilot. “Oh, you are referring to how my irises luminesce when I interface with the internal systems that govern Galileo, Bladerunner, or Ice Station Zebra?”
Branson nodded thoughtfully. “Is that what’s happening? Your eyes change colors when you’re talking to those other systems?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, that is exactly what is happening. Howard-Prime thought it would be wise to give some visual cue to those around me when such external connections were active.”
“Well,” began James, “Da Howard may have been a genius, but he didn’t know shite from sugar, when it comes to human interactions, if he thought making your eyes—” the pilot gestured toward Coleman’s face, “— do that was a good idea. Seriously mate, when in the course of human events have glowing eyes portended anything good?” The AI opened his mouth to answer but Branson waved him down. “No, that was rhetorical. However, my request for you to leave the cockpit is not. Coleman, get the feck out.”
The AI looked hurt but asked, “Is that an order, sir?”
James brightened. “Wait, I can give you orders?”
“Of course, sir,” said Coleman. “While the captain was gracious enough to welcome me as a member of the crew, I have not yet been designated any rank. As such, all of you outrank me, and I am obliged to follow any lawful order you might give.”
Branson shot the AI a broad grin, “Well, then, I do believe I just gave you a lawful order, didn’t I?”
Coleman affected a sigh, then vanished. James leaned forward and looked through the cockpit opening and into the main cabin. The AI had reformed there and appeared to already be talking with Linnea. The communications officer was nodding in apparent agreement with something, then noticed James looking at them. She narrowed her eyes at James and drew her lips to a line.
“He’s a fecking cry baby,” yelled James. “I didn’t do anything to him. He’s not flashing those freakish TARDIS blue eyes at you, is he? Let him stare at you with them for a tick and see how you like it, Barbie.”
Before the telepath could respond, Misha looked up from her conversation with Rick. “Hey, flyboy, that’s a private nickname. Nobody gets to call her Barbie, but me.”
James leaned forward a bit more and gave the security officer a wink. “What are you going to do about it, love, rough me up a bit? You may be strong, but I’m quick.”
Misha smirked. “Yeah, I’ve heard that about Irishmen. You know, love, being quick isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
Linnea started laughing, then gave a snort, and covered her nose self consciously. Damien offered her a warm smile and shrugged. “I think your little snorts are adorable.”
Sorenson huffed. “I don’t. It never used to happen before that bastard Kimetrev broke my nose a number of years ago. Ever since then—”
“I can fix that,” offered Rick.
Linnea looked over at the doctor. “Really?”
He smiled and gave a nod toward Misha. “It’s easier than healing bullet wounds.”
Damien placed a hand on the communications officer’s shoulder. “Maybe think about it for a day or two?” She raised her eyebrows questioningly and he continued. “I’ve come to appreciate the unique duality of naturally organic beings, you are both simple and complex, at the same time.” Linnea’s face took on a sympathetic cast, but Damien smiled and shook his head. “No, don’t feel bad for me. I’m actually quite lucky.” The android noted how Coleman, Rick, and Misha were now focused on him, and was about to continue, when Branson called from the cockpit.
“I’ve star
ted the pre-launch sequence. Coleman, I’m ninety-nine percent sure I’ve done everything right, but could use a safety check. If you are going to go all sparkle eyes on me, then do it from there.”
The AI frowned. He did an exceptional job of looking offended, as he interfaced with Galileo’s systems, and his eyes began to glow.
Damien smiled and waved at Coleman. “Did you see that?” Everyone shook their heads and he continued, “Coleman was not actually offended by Branson’s comment, but his emotive algorithms indicated that he should be, so he mimicked it.” Damien noted the blank expressions around him and smiled. “I’m evolving at an exceptionally rapid pace. Just days ago, I was like Coleman even though, at the time, I would have argued the opposite. I thought I was as human as all of you, then as my awareness grew, I realized how predictable my reactions were…programmed really.” Damien patted his own chest. “Then this happened. Well, it didn’t just happen. Doctor Howard conceived of it and Omandi made the intuitive leap that she should act on what he conceived. Those alien organics have altered my neurology as well as my physicality. I realized how not-human I truly was almost immediately after I took my first steps with this body. Since that very moment, I’ve been changing. Coleman was exactly right. With each passing second I become less Howard-Prime and more Damien Smith.”
Linnea’s eyes seemed to glisten and she reached over to take Damien’s hand. He squeezed it and said, “Someday Ensign, I hope you will find me indistinguishable from the rest of our crew. Until then, please consider this one piece of advice from the least human of your crewmates. I suggest you treasure those things that reinforce your personal uniqueness, regardless of how such things became a part of who you are. I am Pinocchio who thought he was a real boy, then realized he wasn’t, and now is becoming.”
Paradigm 2045- Trinity's Children Page 31
